


Sweet, Sweet clouds of Jealousy

by thevelveteeandream



Series: Of cloudy mornings and drizzly nights [1]
Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst heavy, BEST PAIRING IN THE WORLD, Character Development, Communication Failure, Confident Otis, Existential Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I love writing jealousy scenes, I might be wrong with the character profiles, Maeve is jealous, Maeve is turning soft, Multi, Otis and Ruby are amazing together, Otis is kinda dense, Please don't trust me with them, Ruby is a lesser bitch than she was in Moordale, Ruby is turning soft, She is in love with Otis, Slow Burn, The new character is amazing, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, i love ruby, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevelveteeandream/pseuds/thevelveteeandream
Summary: Maeve Wiley dropped out of Moordale, and is now a Cambridge University Professor. She comes across a mysterious text that she is hell-bent upon decoding, and the text is about eroticism and intimacy. When she asks for a fellow professor to help her, she meets Otis again, and feelings of unrequited love reawakens. Along this mix, comes a new character. Eve Mckinley didn't think her life could get more complicated than it already was, but she is proved wrong yet again. She definitely didn't expect to be competing against two other girls for Otis' affection.
Relationships: Aimee Gibbs & Maeve Wiley, Eric Effiong & Otis Milburn, Eric Effiong/Adam Groff, Jean Milburn/Jakob Nyman, Otis Milburn/Maeve Wiley, Otis Milburn/Original Female Character(s), Otis Milburn/Ruby Matthews, ola nyman/lily iglehart
Series: Of cloudy mornings and drizzly nights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655566
Comments: 34
Kudos: 68





	1. Accidental Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> I had been thinking of writing something like this for a long time, but just didn't find the time. It is still not a good time, but, oh well, I had to get it out sometimes.
> 
> I would like to thank buttercookiesandtea for lending me Eve, and for beta reading this story. Ever since I read their story, I have fallen in love with Eve.
> 
> I guess it's time for all of you to meet Eve.

“The romanticism in Sylvia Plath’s work is contradicted by inequality, in large proportions. The gender inequality itself becomes an obstacle to harmonious relationships, as the ideas of love, eroticism, and intimacy are driven away from a relationship, due to gender struggles. In her works, sex acts as a mechanism of injustice, highlighting a male’s dominance and a female’s submission in interpersonal relationships.”

Maeve Wiley took full advantage of the brilliant minds that sat before her, trying to unravel a form of text that she hadn’t studied ever before. It was not one of Plath’s works, but the form and structure of the piece matched Plath’s. 

She was partly sure that the text was about sex and eroticism in poetry, but the aspect that she couldn’t really figure out was the content and the ideas that the piece brought forward. It was indeed the most contemporary, and controversial piece she had read yet. She wanted a second, and more importantly, a more qualified opinion than her’s in the field of intimacy, to properly decode that piece fully. And it was because of this, that she was teaching Plath instead of Miller, to her students.

So far, the students had proved helpless whenever she asked them to think critically.

As a feminist and dark literature Cambridge University professor, her students meant everything to her, and she would be ready to cross over to the other side for them, if need be, even though she put forth a bad bitch attitude. Her attitude was partly to veil her prominent insecurities, but over the years, she had also used it as a ruse to act tough, when she herself knew that the challenging years of sixth form had left her heart-broken.

Her decision to become a University professor at 19 was solely based on the fact that she wanted some regularity, and a stable source of finance. Or, more importantly, she just didn’t want to fall into her family’s footsteps. She didn’t want to be fucked up like them. She actually wanted to make something out of her life. She wanted a house with many windows, she wanted money, and she wanted someone to love her.

The ceremonious ring of the bell brought her back to the present and by the time she looked around, half of the lecture was empty.

She gathered her materials and stuffed them into her handbag, and walked out of the lecture hall.  
She saw the head of her department, Mr. Yehuda, heading in her direction, a spring of purpose in his step.

She hastily hid behind an oddly large bush as an attempt to stop him from making small talk. It was Mr. Yehuda’s tradition to ask extremely personal questions, and what annoyed her the most was his hideous inclination towards her love life. The man was almost fifty, but that hadn’t stopped him from perving on her during her lectures, or sometimes even in the library. The fact that annoyed and pained her the most was that the fate of her job rested solely in his hands. Due to this, she couldn’t talk him off, or kick him in the balls whenever she caught him perving on her.

Her attempt to hide behind the bush had been unsuccessful - he had caught her bent over the bush, halfway through the process. The pathetic twinkle that took over his eyes when he saw her bent over, brought her one step closer to kicking him in the nuts.

“Morning, Mr. Yehuda!” she deftly exclaimed, and started moving away hurriedly.

“How are you today, Ms. Veelee?”

Not bothering to correct him, she increased her pace.

Turning her head to her left, she saw that he had caught up with her.

“Found what you were looking for in the bushes, Maeve?”

She stopped dead in her tracks. Glancing behind, she noticed the repulsive smile that had taken over his features. She didn’t say a word.

“Anyways, I saw that you requested an expert eroticist to help you with your work,” he began, looking at the half-opened diary that he, religiously, kept on his person every single day.

“I requested another professor specializing in the analysis of intimacy to help me with a text I am trying to analyze,” said Maeve, trying to correct him. She somehow knew that he was still oblivious to that.

“Well, normally, I would have inserted myself with you, being the pleasure expert that I am, but after reading the text, I have decided that it is beneath me to be analyzing such petty works, by such petty authors, so I have dished out an expert for you. The name’s Mobbur.”

And with that, he hurried off in the direction he had approached, leaving Maeve with a revolting sense of disconsolation.

She felt the tremors of a terrible headache surface, and she started walking curtly towards her one room accomodation.

* * *

  
Putting up Ezra Furman onto the speakers, she made herself a warm cup of sugarless tea, that she was hoping would get her through another long night of an attempt at decoding the text.

She brought out a copy of the mysterious text, and also fished out a rather tattered copy of ‘Sylvia Plath: A Critical Guide’ that she had borrowed from the university library.

The only copy she could find of the guide was tattered. Just her luck.

Ezra Furman’s melancholy poetry ferried her thoughts back to her high school years.

She thought about all the people that had let her down. She thought about her mom. She thought about her brother, Sean. She thought about Otis. Oh, Otis.

Fucking Otis.

Fucking, lovely Otis.

They hadn’t ended very well, back in her high school days. But Maeve didn’t blame herself for that. It was all Otis’ fault. All his fucking fault. What was the need to invite her to his ridiculous party just to humiliate her in front of so many people? Her reputation, as the ‘Cock biter’, wasn’t really at the top of the charts before that fucking party. But that’s not the thing that bothered her.

Otis had let her down, like everyone else. The one person she thought she could count, the one person she thought would definitely be there to break her fall, the one person she could truly open her heart to, the one person she could truly love.

Guess she had been wrong. All over again.

But the thing with Otis had taught her a lot about trust. It was a mistake to open up to him. She still remembered the sleepless nights she had spent, crying into her pillow. The thing with Otis really messed her up.

Even though Otis had hurt her, she still had feelings for him, locked safely inside a dark vault of her heart, the key to which she had lost, over the years. Even though she didn’t accept it, deep down inside of her she wanted to see Otis again. Some part of her couldn’t believe that they were destined to end this way. It just didn’t feel right.

Then the song ended. And with the song, her concentration stream also ended, and her thought process shut down.

Chugging the lukewarm cup of tea, she laid out her bed, thrust all her course material into her bag, and practically jumped onto the bed. As soon as her head touched the pillow, she was asleep.

* * *

  
Maeve hoisted herself up from her bed hurriedly, checking the clock. 

9 A.M

Fuck, fuck, fuck……

She had missed her alarm. She was 20 minutes late for her first lecture, which would be dreadful for her, considering that she had already missed several of her lectures. 

For a while, she considered taking a leave. Thinking hard, she thought that she would attend, but only because she didn’t want to burden Daniel, the awesome bloke who covered for her whenever she was on leave.

She made her bed, and put on her sleeveless jacket hastily over her top. She grabbed her handbag and an apple for the journey, and with that, she started sprinting towards the lecture hall.

* * *

Before opening the door to the lecture hall, she took a minute to brush her hair, and smoothen out her handbag. Creases had started appearing on her jacket, and she combed them off speedily, before opening the door of the lecture hall.  
Following her regular routine, she threw her half-eaten apple in the direction of the bin, and, like everyday, it completely missed the bin. Due to the direction of the man’s silhouette, her view of the apple was obscured. She did not know where the apple went.

“Ok, you know the drill,” she said to her students, “Start to shut up.”

With that, she drew nearer to the man, who now stood, back facing her, organizing his material on her table.

“Hello, can I help you?” she asked the man.

“Hey, I am supposed to be helping Ms. Veelee with a text?” he said, quizzically, his back still to her.

“Mr. Mobbur?” she asked, brushing a strand of hair across from her forehead.

“Mr. Milburn,” he corrected, and then turned.

It was as if all life had been drained out of her body. Stood across her was a man, clearly in his twenties, with a ‘Casual Hamm’ sort of outfit, that made him look like a cute puppy. There were small freckles on his face, but it was still not an excessive amount. His trousers were perfectly ironed, and his back was bent, which was a clear indication that he was nervous.

Otis Milburn. Otis fucking Milburn.

“Ma-Maeve?” he said, looking as startled as she was.

“What the fuck,” said Maeve. “Otis?”

She didn’t know what to feel. She wanted to run to him, and give him the longest embrace that she could muster, but then she was reminded of the party. She did not want to fall for it one more time. But it was Otis, after almost 2 years. But the last time she had trusted him, he had hurt her bad. But he looked so cute in his ‘casual Hamm’ outfit. Coming to a decision was hard, so she decided to wait for Otis to break the silence.

A minute passed, and Otis said nothing. His gaze alternated between her and the floor of the lecture hall. His hands fold and unfold, his gaze temporarily lowered.

Every passing second was like another spoon of soup in a cauldron that was already filled to the brim. It was going to tip over any minute.

Hello, Maeve! She thought to herself. This is Otis. You need to start the conversation.

All of a sudden, right when she was trying to speak, the image of the party filled her mind and her distaste returned.

“So what are you doing here after all these years?” said Maeve. Her tone was accusatory.

“I dropped out, just like you did,” said Otis. “Cambridge accepted me as lecturer because of my…. prowess, in the field of eroticism and intimacy.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, signifying that she was not fully satisfied yet, and that she possibly didn’t want to talk to him. She crinkled up her forehead, and her eyes bore into Otis’, mocking.

She knew that the students were enjoying this. This was their first time seeing their badass lecturer this vulnerable.

She had made up her mind, she was going to push him away. Her heart warmed upon seeing him, but she was not ready to accept the dickhead. At least, not yet.

“MR. YEHUDA,” she screamed, facing the door of the hall.

“Okay, Maeve, calm down,” Otis began. “I won’t talk if you don’t want me to.”

She didn’t say a word. That wasn’t enough. She needed to learn how to feel comfortable in Otis’ presence… again. She couldn’t take all this. Certainly not right now.

She stormed out of the hall, hearing collective gasps from the students. Slamming the door behind her, she looked for Daniel. She found him sitting over a bench not too far away from the class.

Behind her, she could hear Otis scurrying after her. The door opened, and there he was, following her like a cute puppy.

As if her body was reacting of its own accord, she noticed a smile creasing the sides of her lips.  
“Cover for me,” she said to Daniel, when she reached the bench.

From thereon, she walked with purpose, confident that Otis was right behind her the whole time.

* * *

  
She made Otis follow her almost 2 miles. By the time they reached her accomodation, they were both worn out.

Maeve entered first, switching on the lights and the air conditioner, and held the door open for Otis to enter. She was still silent, and had no plans of opening up so soon.

Otis reluctantly sat down on the couch, and she sat down across him, crossing her legs, a hand on her chin. She still hadn’t said a word.

“I would like to propose something,” said Otis, hesitantly, eyeing Maeve up and down.

Maeve looked right back at him, beckoning him to go on.

“I understand that you do not want to talk to me yet,” he began. “How about we just analyze Plath’s works silently, comparing notes. And we can write down little messages on a rough piece of paper whenever we need our questions answered, or theories tested. How does that sound?”

Maeve looked down and thought for a moment, and then looked at him again, intently holding his gaze, and nodded her head.

Otis understood the signal and he pulled out his copy of the ‘Sylvia Plath: A Critical Guide’.

Interestingly, his copy of the book was in perfect condition. Pages were smoothed out, and not a crease could be seen on the spine. She would have to talk to the librarian.

The note-exchanging and the analyzing went on for another hour, between which, Otis would pass out funny anecdotes, and she would reply with a soft smile. She still didn’t say anything. She still needed time to steel herself fully.

Her heart always fluttered whenever he peered at her with his piercing blue eyes. It was like watching the waves of a sea wash out the sand and gravel deposited on a delta.

She took another hour to completely overcome the, now mild, distaste in her heart. It wasn’t completely gone, but it was good enough that she would be able to talk without lashing out.

“I’m ready to talk, Otis,” she said.

Otis looked up, all of a sudden. He seemed to be so absorbed in his paperwork that Maeve’s unexpected comment startled him. Upon hearing those words, he smiled the brightest she had seen him smile since she had met him this morning. He turned, now fully facing her.

“You changed your hair back and also added the pink streaks,” said Otis.

“Perceptive,” she said, and they both laughed.

She was silent for a second, but then decided to break the ice.

“What happened to us, Otis?” she said, with a grim expression on her face. “How did we end up like this?”

Otis went silent. And it wasn’t a friendly silence. This silence had ice tendrils that pierced her heart every time Otis looked at her.

“I thought you were kind of ignoring me last summer, after I gave you that message, after your Quiz Heads finals.” said Otis.

Maeve was puzzled. She didn’t know anything about any message.

Seeing the quizzical look on her face, Otis asked, “I told Isaac to tell you, because you had gone to the store?”

Maeve was still oblivious. She remembers going to the store for milk for cooking omelettes for Isaac. But-

Realization dawned, and she heated up very quickly. Of course, she left her phone at his caravan. He must have deleted the message…

Otis gazed at her face for a bit longer, and then said, “Never mind, it wasn’t very important anyways.”

No. Maeve had to know what was in the message. She wanted to call Issac right away and confront him for deleting that fucking message.

Fucking Issac. Another boy had let her down. It was as if she was stuck in a vicious cycle of betrayal. She would trust a boy, pour her heart out to him, and then he would betray her, leaving her deeply scarred, and unable to love.

Over the years, she had learned to close her feelings out, to bury her emotions deep within her. She had locked all of her thoughts in a vault in her heart, where they stood in morbid unity, as if mocking her of being so sensitive.

“What was in the message, Otis?” Maeve asked Otis, beads of sweat enveloping her forehead.

Otis didn’t meet her eyes.

“It is not important, Maeve,” said Otis.

“No, you are gonna tell me,” said Maeve. “And you are going to tell me now, dickhead.”

They both laughed at the same time. Hearing Maeve’s old nickname for Otis really helped to lighten the mood.

She gave him time to collect his thoughts, but she knew he was going to answer her, because he had none of the nervous energy that he had exhibited just minutes ago.

He took a deep breath before speaking.

“I left you a voicemail on the day of your Quiz Heads final, basically telling you how proud of you I am, and asking for your forgiveness,” said Otis. “And -”

He hesitated for a bit, and then stopped completely. Maeve wasn’t done yet. She needed the full truth.

“And what, Otis?” she asked, furrowing her brows.

“And to tell you how much I loved you then,” said Otis, looking exasperated. “It was my first time saying I love you to you.”  
Otis turned pink. He stared at the ground, a mortifying expression evident on his face.

The colour drained off from Maeve’s face. She flinched at the past tense.

“And you didn’t say anything, or try to make conversation, so I thought you didn’t care,” he continued. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, so I kept my distance.”

Tears threatened to fall off. A dam was breaking inside her, and she knew she was going to explode with emotions. She had a shit ton of questions she wanted answered, but she didn’t trust herself to speak…. just yet.

Why did he tell Jackson how to get me? Why humiliate me in front of everyone at the party?

There were too many to be answered, but she wanted all of them acknowledged. Otis owed her that much.

“Why everything?” she managed to get out, the edges of her lips quivering with emotion.

Otis opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He looked down, rubbing a comforting hand over his forehead.

“My dad came back a day before I sent you that message. He said he had come back to hang with me. He took Eric and I camping,” said Otis. “Where he lost the way and fought a tent like it was a human. Turns out, he had cheated on his wife, and she had thrown him out of his house.”

Otis took a deep breath before continuing.

“That scared me for some time, and I did not want to become like my dad. I didn’t want to be an asshole, Maeve.”

“But, you are nothing like your dad, Otis.”

“No, Maeve, but I am. His intentions were never to hurt my mom or me, but he still did it. Same way, I didn’t want to hurt you, but ended up doing it unconsciously.”

“And that is where the similarity ends. You are nothing like your father, Otis,” said Maeve, snaking a reassuring hand towards his knee. “I was just mad at you because you hurt me, Otis. You hurt me in an indescribable way.”

“A long time has passed since then, and I have had time to get my shit together,” said Maeve. “I forgive you, dickhead.”

He smiled and Maeve felt the dam beginning to fill back up.

Maeve stood up from where she was sitting, walked to Otis, and sat down next to him.

Otis’ cheeks turned a heavy shade of pink, but he didn’t object.

“Now, I want you to tell me everything interesting that happened in Moordale from after the time I dropped out,” she said, laying back on the couch, and peering into Otis’ perfect blue eyes.

“Well, nothing very interesting happened. Just Adam proposed to Eric in the middle of the school play, and they have been living together happily since,” he began. “Ruby eventually came around, and we had a brief thing.”

Maeve’s expression changed from that of content, to that of contempt. Her brows furrowed, nostrils flared, and eyes darted.

Thankfully for her, Otis had been looking at the floor, so he didn’t catch her vulnerable. She hated being this way, generally, but in Otis’ company, all those feelings dissipate and are replaced with delightful ones. Ones she cherishes.

“So, Ruby, huh?” asked Maeve, trying to sustain a casual expression.

“Yeah, she really came around, after you left,” said Otis, his eyes alternating between mapping out her face, and caressing the floor. “She actually confronted Anwar for me. That was very sweet of her, and as far as I remember, that’s what drove us together.”

“How were you even attracted to her, dickhead?” asked Maeve.

Ruby? Out of everyone, Ruby? What the hell did Otis do to deserve someone like her?

“Right after you left Moordale, she started talking to me,” he began. “And in just a flash, we had moved past flashy looks and winks, and we were hanging out all the time.”

Maeve tried to tell her heart to stop beating so fast, and she prevented herself from going red. That bitch used my absence as a window, was all she could think about.

“So, did you guys go all the way?” Maeve asked.

“Oh, as in, had sex?” asked Otis.

Had sex? For God’s sake. What did she do to him.

He was not the nervous, all jittery kind of guy who would get flustered by a compliment, anymore. He was a more confident version of himself, and she had to hand it to Ruby. What Maeve hadn’t been able to accomplish in almost two years, Ruby had accomplished in under 6 months.

When Maeve and Otis were on good terms, and back when she used to like… no, love him, she had imagined what Otis would be like if he had been a little more confident. It was kind of her dream to see him that way.

Now, when he was confident, she hated it. Or she just hated the fact that Ruby had transitioned him that way. She always thought she would be the one to do what Ruby had done, and just the fact that it was someone other than her who had managed that feat, disgusted her thoroughly. She fucking hated Ruby.

“Yes,” said Maeve, answering his earlier question.

“Several times actually,” said Otis. “At first, I was worried that I was doing it all wrong. But then Ruby egged me on, and I felt confident for the first time in a long time.

Maeve nodded furiously, trying to hide her repugnance. She wanted nothing to do with Ruby. She looked at the floor, because her tears were very close to betraying her.

Glancing above, she heard a raspy knock on her door. She was thankful for the distraction.

Otis stood up, but she gestured for him to sit down. 

Walking briskly towards the door, she looked back and saw Otis looking at her intently.

She gripped the door handle and wrenched the door towards herself.

The door opened to reveal a young brown-eyed woman, with long brown hair, that fell in wisps around her shoulders. Her Amazonian figure rested well on her slender frame. She was clad in an oversized, red jumper, underneath which, she wore a black cropped bustier. Impala All Stars completed her look, painting her in a solid apathetic image.

Maeve raised her eyebrows, and half-smiled at her.

“Hi, I am Eve McKinley,” she said, introducing herself. “Is Otis here, by any chance?”

“Yes, he is inside,” said Maeve. “Analyzing Plath.”

“Can you please call him out. He is in trouble,” said Eve, smirking.

Maeve almost smiled.

“I’ll get him,” said Maeve. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Thank you, but I am in a bit of a hurry,” replied Eve.

Maeve nodded, and went inside to fetch Otis.

Otis was looking through some of her notes on Plath. When she approached, he closed the notebook and looked up.

“An Eve McKinley is here to take you,” said Maeve. “Says you are in trouble.”

She hated the way his face lit up when she said Eve’s name.

“Oh,” said Otis, frowning. “Eve is here? That’s weird.”

He got up, packed his stuff, flung his backpack over his shoulders and looked at Maeve.

“Thank you, Maeve. This was helpful.”

“The pleasure was mine, dickhead.”  
“Do you have a lecture tomorrow?”

“No, but you can find me in the public library, trying to decode that ‘mystery’ text.”

“See you, then,” he said, not moving.

She ran over to him, and hugged him. Tears threatened to fall off.

“Nice having you back, muppet,” said Maeve.

He smiled, and walked out the door, closing it behind him after giving Maeve a last wave.

It was truly great to have Otis back, but now, instead of one, she had to compete against two.

* * *

“Where is your phone?” asked Eve, eyeing him up and down.

Otis realized that he hadn’t looked at it for the past two hours.

“Take it out and tell me what time it is,” said Eve, clearly in a position of authority.

Otis took his phone out and checked the time. He flinched, seeing the homescreen.

“So, we missed our lunch booking, and Eric is pissed,” she said, walking briskly ahead of him.

“I’m sorry, Eve,” he said, hastily. “I couldn’t keep track of time.”

He could tell that she was not convinced. He waited a moment and then said, “I know a great Italian restaurant upstate. It is a half hour walk from here.”

He didn’t need to catch up to her to know that she was smiling.

They walked and walked and walked, and talked and talked and talked, until their voices were drowned by the subtle canopies of the evergreen trees.


	2. Holding Each Other Ransom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sneak peak into Eve's background and history at Moordale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome back!
> 
> Thanks for taking out the time to read this, and if the pace, characterisation or any other elements doesn't work for you, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> All comments, however positive and negative, are highly appreciated!

3 years ago:

Eve zipped up her hoodie, and was ready for her new day of school. She knew people wouldn’t be kind. She was a sixth form student - she didn’t expect them to be kind. However, she still didn’t know if she was prepared for whatever might be hurled at her on her first day.

She took the bus, and saw another Moordale student, blonde hair, dressed flourishly sitting a few seats in front of her. She just didn’t have the nerve to make small talk right then, so she sat still, taking out her sketchpad from her school bag, and flipped through some of her works.

Upon reaching school, she sat on the steps, observing the details of the rustic buildings, noticing every crack and discolouration and recording whatever she found into her sketchpad. She was still early, so she put in earphones, and put up the Doobie Brothers in an attempt to pass time.

By the time students started filing in, Eve’s pencil was gliding feverishly against the sketchpad, the charcoal of her pencil embedding all sorts of shape on the now-thoroughly blighted paper. She was so absorbed in her sketching that she missed a certain dark-skinned boy backing up towards her.

The boy, in his intense exhilaration, had missed her sitting on the steps, and was in the middle of his sentence (“Sixth form. The best two years of hi-”) when he clashed with her, her pencil flying out of her hand, and her sketchpad accelerating towards the ground. The boy tumbled, and put a hand on Eve’s shoulder to hold himself steady.

When he realized what he had done, he bent down, muttering approximately a million sorries, and handed her the sketchpad back, while she retrieved her pencil.  
Upon standing up and straightening out her pants and her oversized hoodie, she noticed that she didn’t have her sketchpad.

She glanced down, and the boy who had bumped into her, and was helping her retrieve her sketchpad, was still. He was so still that Eve thought he might have been frozen, for all it was worth. The boy tore his eyes away from a particular page in the sketchpad and looked up at her, and then looked back at that page. He did this a couple of times, before finally getting up, closing the sketchbook, and handing it back to her.

“Never in my life, have I ever seen Moordale in such glory,” he said, addressing her directly.

It was her first day and she had really hoped that she could spend the rest of the free time before school starts sketching and not making conversation. But here she was.

“Thank you,” said Eve. “It was just something to pass the time.”

“You are the best sketcher I have met in this school,” he said, holding up his hand. “Hi, I’m Eric Effiong.”

She took his hand and shook. “I am Eve McKinley.”

“Are you new?” asked Eric.

She just nodded.

“Oh my god, we gotta show you the school.” He almost jumped with excitement. “Otis. Otis, come here.”

She had missed Eric’s friend, who had been observing them patiently from a distance, probably waiting for Eric to finish up with her, so that they could walk to the lockers together.

He wore a brown jacket that had blue and red boxes down the middle. His eyes were a hot shade of turquoise, and his black hair was ruffled. He carried a long strewn backpack on his shoulders, only the straps of which were visible to Eve when he stood facing her.

Otis came forward and Eve shook his hand. “I am Otis,” he said.

“So, as I was saying,” said Eric, being the centre of attention, again. “Sixth Form, guys. Sixth Form. The best two years of high school! And we are already in the second year!”

Eric’s enthusiasm intrigued Eve, so she accepted his request to tag along with them to the lockers and on to the assembly.

In art lesson, she found a seat next to Eric. The teacher gave them a group assignment, and she was working with him. Eric wanted inspiration for a new work, so she drew a portrait of him in his book, and told him to copy it.

After what felt like forever, living through an hour of English, an hour of math, and an hour of geography, she made it through to lunch. Carrying her tray around to where Otis was sitting, she plopped down on to the seat, and started eating.

“How has your first day been, so far?” Otis asked, hesitantly, not looking up from his food.

She abandoned her porridge, and looked at him, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“Well, geography was a spoof, I do not understand complex integration, and I already have an essay on ‘The Crucible’ due next week,” said Eve.

Returning back to the slimy porridge the school canteen had given her, she put a spoonful of it in her mouth, got up, dumped the porridge into the dustbin, and returned back to her seat.

Otis was positively shocked at her reaction.

“That was some action, McKinley,” said Otis, now fully looking at her, a smile taking over his features.

Otis gently shifted his plate towards her. “Since you threw your food.”

“I cannot possibly have yours,” said Eve, pushing the tray back to him, turning a deep shade of pink.

Otis shook his head, and moved closer to her. He gave her a reassuring glance, and slid the tray towards her.

She blushed slightly, accepting the tray, picking up the square fork, and poking a chicken nugget with it. The fork was plastic, and she wasn’t able to break the nugget in half, when, suddenly, Otis grabbed her nugget, and brought it towards his side of the tray.

He shoved his fork into the middle of the nugget, and used a spoon to slice the first half. When there were two clear halves evident, he forcefully retracted the fork from the nugget.  
He passed one half to Eve, and ate one half himself, both smiling in unison at this action.

From thereon, Otis kept slicing the nuggets into two halves and passing one half to Eve, who greedily shoveled that half into her mouth. Both of them enjoyed each other’s company, looking at each other from the corner of their eyes, and smiling when the other looked away.

She heard a shrill laugh behind her, and she turned to see Eric walking, hand-in-hand, with a tall boy, who wore a denim hoodie, the hood of which hung from his head loosely.

Otis saw them too, and invited them over.

Otis tugged her sleeve, and pointed at the boy beside Eric, and said, “Eve, meet Adam.”

“Adam, meet Eve. She is new,” he continued.

He smiled in response, and Adam managed a weak wave.

She had almost finished her share of the nuggets, when Eric spoke, “Eve, I gotta show you the portrait.”

He was almost squeaking with excitement. He reached down into his bag and pulled out his own sketchpad. He flipped through the pad aggressively and only stopped when he was sure that he had found the page.

He almost shoved the pad in her face. She smiled and accepted it, and looked at the drawing. It wasn’t bad, he had almost nailed the dark strokes, but she felt that the lighter strokes still needed work. After telling him the same, she sat back and ate her last nuggets in silence.

The only sounds on the table were of Eric and Adam laughing, whenever they caught one of them staring at the other.

She was just going to put the last piece of nugget into her mouth, when she heard something vibrate, and saw Otis fishing for his phone in his pocket. Upon taking it out, he started typing something furiously, and then got up.

“I am sorry, I have to leave,” he said, almost giggling. “I am meeting Ruby near the lockers.”  
Ruby? Eve thought to herself.

She raised an eyebrow at Eric in question, failing to keep the disappointment out of her expression.

Eric gave her a look that she couldn’t decipher.

“Adam, how about I meet you after school?” said Eric.

Adam looked a bit disappointed but he eventually agreed.

Eric stood up, took Eve’s hand, and almost dragged her away from the table. She was getting increasingly hot, so she took off her hoodie, revealing her Rolling Stones OG t-shirt. Eric looked at it, and dramatically put a hand on his heart, but didn’t stop walking.

He led her to the lockers, but when she thought he was gonna stop, he didn’t. After two more minutes, Eve found herself in a crack between two rows of lockers. Straight ahead, he could see Otis, who was now apparently wearing funky sunglasses, leaning against his locker, presumably waiting for that Ruby girl.

Eric leaned back to give Eve more space to stand so that she could peer at the scene before her easily.

Five minutes of waiting, and a beautiful girl with straight brown hair, wearing large gold earrings, clad in a swanky pink top that sat beneath a shrug that was a lighter shade of pink.

Her gait was like a maiden’s, and she had her handbag hanging from her extended arm, that gave her the appearance of a beautiful mermaid.

Ruby approached Otis, and they kissed for a solid minute, before Ruby withdrew her mouth from Otis’. Poor Otis looked flustered after that very long and surely embarrassing kiss.

They talked for a while, and then, with an embrace, Ruby went her separate way. Otis was left alone, looking redder than a tomato.

Eve didn’t know what to feel. She held her breath, steeled herself, and waited for the waves to pass. She looked at Otis, and kept looking at him. She knew she had been gazing for too long when Eric tapped her on the shoulder.

She didn’t know why she was feeling whatever she was feeling. She didn’t want Otis to go. Friends like that didn’t come often. If she was more full of herself, tied her hair straight, and wore overbearing earrings, maybe then Otis would actually notice her. But she had to face it. Upon the results of a generous assessment, she was just an ordinary 17 year old. But she could never compete with a girl who used notes for toilet paper, starved herself, and put excess mascara in an attempt to looking fucking exotic.

Eric tapped her again.

“Are you okay?” she heard him say.

“Yes, let’s go,” Eve said, desperate to get away from the place they were hiding inside.

Eric nodded, and they slithered through the crack, until they were out. Eve said goodbye to Eric, and headed for her next lesson.

Along the route, when she was all alone, she came across the Untouchables, or whatever was left of them after the exit of Aimee and Ruby.

“I really hate your hoodie,” she heard the boy named Anwar say.

Eve paused in her tracks, turned around, and eyed Anwar up and down.

“Your hair is irregular, your eyebrows are not level,” Eve began. “And, overall, you look like a turd.”

She turned around and walked off, right after seeing, through the corner of her eye, Olivia and Anwar’s stupefied looks. She also heard Ruby murmur to herself, “I like her.” 

The next day, she met the boys near the bike stand. As soon as Eric saw her, he came forward and gave her a hug. She clutched his back, and buried her head in his shoulder.

“How are you doing Eve?” asked Otis.

“Guess I am fine,” replied Eve.

They walked to the entrance together, before Eric dislodged from the group, and scurried off in Adam’s direction. Meanwhile, Otis and Eve walked in silence.

They were approaching the steps, when she saw Otis look behind and mutter, “I like seeing him happy.”

Eve nodded in agreement, and they walked in silence for a long time.

Approaching the locker, she saw a disgruntled boy running towards Otis. He stopped two feet before Otis, and said, “Sex kid, sex kid. I NEED YOUR HELP!”

Otis masked his face and his forehead with his hand, and dragged the boy into an isolated corner. She heard him whisper something to the boy, and a severe expression of disappointment came over the boy’s face, and he hurried off.

Otis returned and looked in the direction of the boy. “That was just Tom Baker, a very lost individual.”

Eve didn’t want to give up and said, “But I heard him call you ‘Sex kid’. What’s up with that?”

“I’ll tell you the full story, but only if you promise to not laugh.”

“I promise.”

“My mom’s a sex therapist. She’s kind of a shrink, but for sexual matters. She loves talking about sex, and she taught me stuff… about sex. So I kinda had a headstart in that area, and by the time I reached sixth form, I was an expert at genitalia.”

Eve nodded, beckoning him to continue.

“One day, Adam had too much viagra, and this girl Maeve and I helped him, and since then, people started coming to us with all of their sex problems. Before we knew it, we had opened kind of a sex clinic. Maeve was in charge of finance and accounts, and I gave them advice.”

Eve nodded, waves of understanding rocking her mind. “So Tom came to you because he has a sex issue. Real smooth, Otis, real smooth.” Otis laughed and Eve smiled. She had learned to lose herself when she was with Otis. He gave her warmth.

“Hey, so, Eve?” said Otis, questioning her, with a hopeful smile on his face. “Would you like to hangout at my house today? Eric is going on his date with Adam, and I really don’t want to be stuck doing advanced integration alone.”

“So you want me over to help you with advanced integration?” asked Eve. “Well, you came to the wrong person. I am hopeless in that area of math.”

“Maybe, we both can figure integration out together?” said Otis, peering into her eyes, his hands fidgeting with the corner of his jacket.

“Are you always this flustered around girls?” she asked.

Otis brought a hand to his head, and started styling his hair.

“So chivalrous,” said Eve.

Otis smirked.

“I’ll be there,” said Eve, a hint of smile playing at the sides of her lips.

Eve knocked on Otis’ door, and seconds later, the door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman, with short blonde hair, wearing a long blue dress that suited her lean frame perfectly.

“You must be Otis’ mum,” said Eve, not meeting her eyes. “I am Eve, his friend. We are supposed to be doing our math homework together.”

“Yes, please come in, Eve,” Otis’ mum said, with a wide grin on her beautiful face.

“I am Jean, Otis’s mother,” she began. “Otis will be in his room. Go up the stairs and the first door you see is his room.”

“Thanks, Dr. Milburn,” said Eve.

“Oh, it’s just Jean,” she said, keeping a hand on her heart, and the grin had returned.

Eve smiled back, and climbed the stairs and opened the door that she saw first.

Otis sat on the bed, legs crossed and a burly math textbook opened in front of him. He was supposedly practicing integration.  
Eve just stood in the doorway, a wide smile on her lips, waiting for Otis to notice her and invite her inside.

When Otis did finally look at the doorway, he almost did a double take.

“Eve, hi,” he finally said after a few minutes. “Please do not stand in the doorway. Please come in.”

Eve stepped in his room, and plopped down onto his bed.

“So do you want to get on with integration, or do you want to get beaten in Smash Bros?” said Eve, chuckling.

“You’re on,” said Otis, starting towards his television console. He dug his hand deep down a cabinet, and brought out two remote controllers. He brought them to the bed, handed one to Eve and kept one for himself.

“I really think we should start with integration,” said Eve.

“I second that,” said Otis, before taking the controller from her hand, switching off the television, and putting the remotes back where he found them.

After getting up on to his bed, he gestured for Eve to join him. She took her boots off before getting onto the bed.

The air conditioner was taking effect - she was immensely cold. She tried her best but couldn’t stop her body from shivering and her teeth from chattering slightly.

“Are you okay?” Otis asked her.

She nodded in response. She didn’t trust her teeth to not chatter when she was speaking. So, she remained silent.

Otis suddenly got up from his bed and started towards his closet. “Just give me a second,” he said.

Seconds later, he fished out a woollen jumper, and brought it over to Eve, who took it, exhibiting a smug, yet satisfied look.

“This should do the job. Thank you!” said Eve, putting it on.  
“Now integration,” she said, gesturing for him to return back to the bed.

“When do you need to leave?” he asked.

“Somewhere between 10 and 11, I would be fine,” she replied.

“More time for integration then,” he said, raising his hands in mock excitement. “Yay!”

Without further ado, they started with integration. They both didn’t have enough knowledge to sufficiently complete the homework, so they watched several videos on integration, and tried many ‘help with homework’ websites.

Eve spent most of the time by staring at Otis’ confused face whenever he encountered a problem. There was occasional banter, a few little slaps on arms here and there, but the prime focus was integration.

After about an hour and a half of frying her brain, Eve finally helped Otis finish his homework.

As soon as the homework was done, Eve collapsed back, her head bouncing on the mattress. Glancing to the side, she saw that Otis had done the same. Their heads were almost touching, and before Eve could enjoy the moment, Otis spoke.

“So, got your eyes on any boys, McKinley?” he said.

Eve rolled her eyes.

“I have been in Moordale for less than a week,” Eve replied. “What makes you think I already fancy someone?”

Otis shrugged, but remained silent.

“It is kinda complicated, to be honest,” said Eve. “I am surrounded by arseholes, but finding that one right boy among a mass of wrong ones seems pretty daunting.”

“Even more than integration?” asked Otis, a smile playing at his lips.

“God, no!” Eve chuckled.

Thinking for a moment, Eve spoke again.

“I guess I have got eyes for Tom Baker,” Eve continued, giggling.  
“What do girls see in him?” asked Otis, clearly annoyed.

Eve just shrugged in response, and they sat in silence for a few long moments.

“What about you?” Eve said, playing dumb. “Any recent conquests?”

Otis looked in her direction.

“Ya, I got this thing with this girl called Ruby,” Otis said.

“Hottest girl in all of Moordale,” Eve said, a mock grin on her face, still playing dumb. “Milburn, what a player.”

They both smiled, enjoying each other’s company. Lying down next to him, their heads almost touching, Eve was tempted to take a step, but she wasn’t sure of the effects and implications. She really wanted to extend her hand, so that Otis might get the hint. Heck, she could even settle for a hug right now.

“Otis….” Eve began, but trailed off, thinking the better off it.

“What?” he replied.

Silence. 

“What?” he asked again.

Silence.

“Nothing,” Eve began. “Have you ever been in love?”

This startled Otis. He hastily got up, and leaned his back against the wooden frame of the bed.

Eve got up too, and gripped his hand. Otis flinched, but she didn’t let go.

“If it is an open wound, you don’t need to share,” Eve said. “I won’t push you.”

Otis was silent for a moment.

“I guess I will have to talk about it to someone, or else I might explode,” said Otis.

Eve simply nodded and waited for him to begin.  
He took a long whiff, and began.

“It was Maeve,” said Otis.

Eve’s face reeked of envy. Still, she understood. As much as it broke her heart, she understood. 

She nodded in encouragement, beckoning him to continue.

“It was mutual. At first, it was unbelievable,” said Otis.

“The looking at each other and smiling. The eventual brush of elbows. The clinic. The requited jealousy,” he continued, looking at the ceiling, and sighing.

“I let her go, Eve. I didn’t chase her,” he continued. “I let miscommunication keep us apart. I am an idiot, Eve. I am an arsehole.”

He buried his forehead in his lap. From his shrouded position, Eve couldn’t see his face, but she could faintly make out tears.

“I walked away, Eve. I let my friendship with her ruin me utterly,” Otis continued, tears leaking from his face.

Eve moved closer to him, entangling her arms with his, their bodies pressed together in a tight embrace.

“I wasn’t able to save myself after that. I invested all my strength in picking back the shards of my broken heart, and rebuilt an exhausted man. If there was any other way, I would have taken it, would have brought softness and light.” Otis’ head was hung in shame.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eve said, lifting his chin. “You came out a stronger and more confident man. And that’s what matters, okay?”

Otis nodded and the tears stopped shortly after.

Otis had to use the bathroom, during which Eve took her phone out and messaged her mom that she would return late. She would not leave Otis like this.

They spent the rest of the time playing Smash Bros. By the end of her time at his house, Otis had calmed down and was in a much better mood.

She left, content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to experiment with a different pace. Please review and tell me if the pace works/doesn't work for you, and please also tell me what more/less you would like to see.
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> Peace.


	3. I'm Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insight into Ruby. Yay!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter helps establish Ruby as good competition, and also provides context for the Ruby-Otis references in the previous chapters. Please read and tell me what you like and don't like. Comments are the best way for me to become a better writer.

“Ms. Matthews?”

The door to her office opened, and in came a stumbling, obese man, whose stomach apparently reached her before he did.

Ruby took off her sunglasses, and stared the man down. She didn’t say a word for several minutes, and the man patiently waited for her to speak. Ruby had that effect on people.

Every single man in her office had the hots for her, but she desired not one of them. The only man she had eyes for, the only one who could make her feel things, the only one she desired…

“Otis Milburn has been found, boss,” Shirley, her secretary told her, opening her door halfway to peek at Ruby’s face, a cheery look defining her features.

Ruby couldn’t deny the blood rush that she was experiencing, and couldn’t deny the subtle upward movement of the corners of her lips. She also couldn’t deny the spring in her step, but she sure could repress it, because that would’ve counted as going too far.

As much as it pained her to admit, she had been stalking Otis since they both fell out. They had only dated for a couple of months, but those couple of months had left her hungry for more.

Ruby guessed the reason for that was that Otis was generally fun to be with, his awkwardness defining his eccentric behaviour. She vaguely remembered the nights she had spent in Moordale thinking about him. His messy hair always gave her goosebumps, his deep blue eyes enough to take a toll on her.

Ever since she graduated Moordale, to take up fashion designing, she had regretted her treatment of Otis. Deep down, she knew that she had started warming up towards him after their conquest with the pregnancy pill.

Otis excelled where most guys flunked - he was just too caring and too trusting for his own good. Or at least that’s what she had seen happen to her.

She assured her that now was different from Moordale. She was 17, then, for god’s sake, what did the world expect from her?

It began with subtle greeting looks, and seldom casual “hi”s and “hello”s. From there, Ruby had started her overthinking cycle, persuading her to talk to him alone, when Anwar and Olivia weren’t around. The last thing she had wanted people to think was that she was with Sex Kid.

They had talked and talked and talked - inside school, outside school, almost everywhere. Their not-relationship had peaked when Cockb-Maeve Wiley left school, and her grandfather passed away due to leukemia. Her grandfather had been the only person in her family that she could look up to. He was not perfect, but he treated her like his heartthrob, and it had really broken her heart to see him go. Heck, she had cried for nights and nights on end, shoving her face into her pillow to stop her groans from resounding. The world had been a bitch, and Ruby had long since decided to be a bigger bitch.

But it all fell away one night, when Otis Milburn threw a stone at her window. At first, she thought it was nothing, she was used to boys throwing stones at her window all the time. She dismissed it as a simple booty call. But the knocks just seemed to intensify, and after some time, she decided to just fucking get up and screw Tom Baker over for good.

She remembered reaching the window, her body parts quaking with fury, and opening the frame, peeking out into the chilly night, and seeing Otis, sitting on a makeshift stool made of bricks. He didn’t look at her - he probably didn’t know that she had opened the frame. She couldn’t see much but she sure could make out a tear snaking its way down his cheek.

Otis had comforted her upon the death of her grandfather, and now God had given her an opportunity to do the same - an opportunity to come out a better person. She rushed down the steps, and opened the enormous door and stepped out into the night. Otis was mildly shocked at seeing her here, but he didn’t lift his face or acknowledge her.

Reaching halfway, she remembered to have started running. Running, and sheltering him in her arms. He gladly accepted her shoulder.

From thereon, Ruby had quit the Untouchables, and had started hanging out with Otis. At least till Eve McKinley showed up. Then Otis started hanging out with her.

Days passed, and Otis grew more and more distant, or at least he appeared to, until one rather dreary morning, when she walked up to Otis’ locker, had seen him with Eve, and was beginning to turn around and screw off, until she heard him call her name. She almost ran up to him, and she remembered the look of satisfaction and the smirk that had apprehended the corners of her mouth, when he had gestured for Eve to leave them alone.

“Hey, I uh, wanted to ask you something,” he had said. She still remembered his cute flustered expression.

He had asked her out, then, and she was happy to agree. They had dated for several months, and would have still been dating if Otis hadn’t dropped out of Moordale, for some strange reason that he had kept to himself.

She allowed herself to forget all that, because now she was going to make new moments, given that Otis accepted her. With any other boy, she wouldn’t have a shred of doubt, but with Otis, she was almost crippled with nervousness.

“Where is he based?” Ruby asked, expertly masking the excitement from her voice.

“Cambridge,” the fat man muttered, looking at the computer screen on her desk.

Ruby raised her eyebrows in interest, a mask of revelation spreading across her face, as she began connecting the dots. At least now she knew why Otis had suddenly dropped out of Moordale. But that didn’t overcome the extreme disappointment and anger she felt. I was his girlfriend, she thought to herself, he should’ve told me.

Her mood was like an orchestra, the artist - her heart, playing her emotions to a chaotic, yet mesmerizing symphony. At times, the sweet sounds of a sitar, the courtiers of warmth, filled her to the brim, and then the violins would step in, her rising fury building towards a tall crescendo, almost bursting from her chest in vivacious gusts. Right now, the trappy sounds of a hi-hat constricted her throat, topping her excitement with arrogantly effective brilliance.

“Find me the most romantic restaurants in or near Cambridge,” said Ruby, trying to assert back authority. “Do it now!”

All the employees got busy at their monitors, leaving Ruby wondering of what was to come.

“Ms. Matthews,” an employee looked up, addressing her. “You might not even need a romantic restaurant to take him to.”

She was confused. “What do you mean,” she asked.

“There is the annual University gala coming up in one of the colleges,” said the fat man, quirking an eyebrow at her. “It is the biggest gala of the year.”

Ruby moved across the room, and gave the fat man a pat on his back. A huge grin took over his lips, and he strutted away, muttering to himself.

Jesus, she thought to herself, Otis has really softened her.

Her secretary, Shirley, came forward and squeezed Ruby’s shoulder. Shirley had been her best friend since she joined the office, and had helped Ruby through some really tough times.

“In the days preceding the gala, you can earn his trust, and then, when the time is right, you can ask him,” muttered Shirley. “This is your chance. You got this, babe.”

Ruby smiled, and nodded her head. Shirley gave her a thumbs up before disappearing in the crowd of employees that stood around her.

“My tickets to Cambridge?” she asked, turning her back on her staff.

“Booked first class,” her assistant replied.

She clapped her hands and left the office.

The weight lifted from her chest, and she tread lighter than she had all week, her shoulders relieved of the burden she didn’t know she was carrying. She noticed the sunlight streaming into the office window. As she made her way out of the building, she started running, a goofy, girlish smile streaked her face, and with a joyous roar, she burst into the taxi her assistant had hired for her.

* * *

Maeve sat across from Otis at a desk in the university library. It was a beautiful morning, lit brighter by Otis’ presence.

Perhaps that’s it. In a few weeks, they would be done with the text and they would eventually fall out again. Now that she didn’t see Otis as hers anymore, he just explodes with attractiveness. She looked at him, smiled and he smiled back. 

Otis sat across her, his legs crossed beneath the seat of the chair, his brows furrowed, and his hand gently stroking his forehead.

“Who knew Plath would be so deep,” she muttered, looking up from her book.

Otis nodded in response, and sat up, closing the book and depositing it to the corner of the table.

Just then, a frail looking man, who, as per Maeve’s estimation, was at least 35, approached their table, holding a yellow pamphlet in his right hand, looking at Maeve, with what appeared to be hope in his eyes.

He stopped near the right leg of the table, his feet almost touching her toes. He then reached his hand forward, in an attempt to envelope her hand, that now lied flat over her notebook. Maeve’s first instinct was to retract her hand. She didn’t know this man, and she didn’t know why he was being so awkward.

She looked at Otis, who gently shook his head. She didn’t retract her hand. She was curious to see where this was going.

The man was attractive, with grey eyes, and a handlebar moustache that decorated his face in a very manly way. Under different circumstances, she would have let him take her for a spin.

He gently thrust forward the envelope he was holding towards her. She barely had time to look. He retracted the pamphlet hastily, and held her hand again.

“Would you be my date to the University gala?” he asked, his face devoid of emotions.

Something clicked. Of course. She realized that the annual gala was coming up. It had totally escaped her mind, she had been distracted with the text and Otis coming back. She thought for a moment, but she had made up her mind to ask Otis to the gala. Which meant that she had to reject this man. That was always the hardest part. Before, she would have just said no and ran off, not caring about the feelings of the rejected boy. But now, it was different. Otis had really softened her.

“I am flattered, but no,” said Maeve, shaking her head. “Sorry.”

“But-” the man began.

Maeve shook her head and pointed his finger away, beckoning him to get out of her face. Well, softness could only go so far for Maeve Wiley.

The man was crying, his tears fell around his cheeks like a waterfall.

Some of the tear drops hit Maeve’s top, which angered her immensely. She got up, grabbed his collar, wrenched him up, and pointed to the other end of the library.

His head hung, and he crawled away from Maeve and Otis.

“Well, that was withering to watch,” said Otis, concerned, looking at the man’s hastily retreating back.

Maeve shrugged her shoulders and absorbed herself into her notes.

Maeve was so absorbed in her notes that when Otis called her the first time, she didn’t look up.

“Maeve,” Otis called again in a gentler tone.

Maeve looked up and said, “Hm?”

“Why did you reject the guy?” he said, looking interested.

Maeve closed her notebook, and peered at him.

“Do you really take me for a simp?” Maeve began. “I didn’t even know the guy. Just because he is cute doesn’t mean I let him get me drunk and fuck me through the night.”

Otis winced, “Okay, jeez!”

They both sat in silence for a few moments.

There was this uneasiness inside Maeve’s stomach that threatened to consume her whole. She wanted to ask Otis to the gala, but she didn’t really know how to approach the subject again, so instead, she thought of trying a different tactic.

“Aimee, Steve and I are having a movie night today,” said Maeve, breaking the silence. “I am kind of a third wheel, but if you come, I won’t have to be the third wheel anymore.”

She looked at Otis pleadingly, her eyes turning dove shaped, and her hands folding under the table.

Otis thought for a moment, and then asked, “Whose movies?”

“Oh, you mean which actor and actress?” said Maeve.

Otis nodded.

“Who is your favourite actress,” she asked, an inviting expression on her face.

“I have always loved Margot Robbie, to be honest,” Otis replied. “Has anyone told you that you kinda look like her?”

“No, dickhead, no one has ever told me that I resemble Margot Robbie,” Maeve began, getting increasingly annoyed. “Not at Moordale, not near the caravan, and definitely not near the place I used to work.”

She crinkled up her face. True, she was annoyed, but she liked being annoyed like this. She decided to play it further.

“Is that why you used to love me?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Because I was the closest you could get to banging Robbie?”

Otis’ face turned crimson. He looked down and looked up again. She was sure that he was trying to contemplate an appropriate answer.

“Well, the hair would have to go, I suppose,” she said, sighing and shaking her head.

“No, I really love the pink streaks,” Otis groaned.

Maeve decided to take a step forward.

“I see,” Maeve began. “I guess that’s the reason you loved me for the first year of sixth form. The next year, I dyed my hair black, and you got into a relationship with Ola.”

Otis turned a deeper shade of crimson, and he lowered his eyes permanently.   
A minute, or two, passed and he didn’t look up. His hesitation and his silence was leading Maeve to worry that she was actually right, that whatever she had said jokingly was all true.

He suddenly looked up. “I cannot hide this from you anymore,” he said, his nervousness apparent from his frantic fidgeting and the colour of his cheeks.

“What you are saying holds some amount of truth,” said Otis, in a matter-of-fact voice. “I did love you in the first year of sixth form because you looked like her. I guess it was just a natural attraction.”

Maeve was stunned. Her brain stuttered for a moment, and she took in more air from her mouth than she expected. Every part of her went on hold, giving her thoughts time to catch up. After a wash of cold, she was jolted back to reality by Otis’ thunderous laughter. He almost dropped to the floor, guffawing, his eyes twisted inward and his hands clutched his stomach.

“Dickhead!” she roared, reaching across the desk and punching him in the arm. He doesn’t stop chuckling.

“Jesus, keep it down,” the man sitting on the adjacent desk said. “This is a public library.”

Otis nodded, apologizing to the man, while Maeve just threw the man a dirty look.

“You still haven’t answered my question, dickhead,” said Maeve, leaning towards him to not make too much noise.

“If it’s Margot Robbie, I’m in,” he said, his face overflowing with mock excitement.

“Ya, we’ll put on Birds of Prey, and leave you alone in the room for ten minutes with the movie still up,” she said, mocking his expression. “You can beat off how much ever you like.”

Otis turned an intense shade of beetroot. “Surely, you understand, that’s not what I had in mind.”

“Yes, yes, sure,” she said with an expression of mock understanding.

“So, is it gonna be Margot Robbie?” he asked.

“Ok, fine, I’ll put on Margot Robbie,” said Mave, biting her thumbs, clearly exasperated. “I just don’t want to be the third wheel anymore.”

Otis smiled, and went back to his notes.

* * *

  
Ruby climbed out of her airplane suite, and it took her an hour to clear customs. After customs, she hired a cab to get her to Cambridge.

Through the dark tint of the windows she could see the King’s cathedral, standing majestic as ever. It stood like a shackled edifice amongst the portentous meadows which enveloped the pontifical college towers, from which smoke rose in dull, lazy puffs.

Throughout the cab ride, her arms frantically shook, every strand of hair on her arms and legs stood on end, and she caught herself playing with the corners of her top at least twice. She was shit scared, but she was too proud to admit it.

The cab stopped just outside what she recognized, from her extensive research, as Gonville and Caius College. The rectangular building stood taller than its neighbours, and the reflective surface of the walls was so clear, that it was like staring right at a high definition television screen. The triangular head of the building sat as a crown in between two less striking extensions. The birds buffeted around these towers, disturbed only by the wind whistling through the tree-tops, causing the official college banner to frantically whirl around.

That would be Ruby’s new home for the next few months. Or at least until things move forward with Otis. And she was really hoping that that didn’t take long, because the gala was in a week, and if she couldn’t convince Otis to be back with her till then, then she would have to spend a good proportion of her money on alcohol, just to drown her sorrows.

This wasn’t Ruby. Whenever she liked a guy, she trapped him with her wily charms, and then he would just sort of ask her out. On the rarest of the occasions, when she asked a guy out, they just said yes, and all was sorted. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she had fallen for Otis. And she knew that she had fallen hard.

Handing the cab driver some loose cash and climbing out of the SUV, she made her way towards her accomodation. Handing the staff her luggage, she was directed to her room by a rather burly man, with a knotted beard, who single-handedly carried all her bags to her room, and also left some snacks, which she so desperately required.

After she had freshened up, she put on the nicest outfit she could fish from her now unpacked, messy luggage, inspecting every part of her body and face in the shiny silver mirror, that was hung up loosely on the opposite wall, and was just tall enough to reflect her full, perfect body back at her.

She moved through every element of her face, one by one - the acute curve of her forehead, the twisted lining of her nose, the subtle inward arch of her lips, and the sharp vault of her cheekbones, and catalogued all of it in her brain. She knew that Otis wouldn’t care about her physical appearance, he would never objectify her, but she knew that looking good had an impact. Otis could keep denying it, but she knew that the physical appearance played an important part in forgiving and taking someone back. Be it Otis, or any other man.

Starkly hanging her bag across her shoulder, she locked the door to her accomodation, and hurried off to the reception, a new found determination was evident in her gait.

When she reached the reception, she put her arms on the service table, leant her thighs against the underside of the table, immediately asserting her authority. The receptionist was a guy, and Ruby had long since excelled at that field.

She ran a hand through her hair, her lips shaping into a small pout, and she said, “Excuse, me.”

Stretching her lips into a seductive smile, when she was convinced she had his attention, she continued, “Would you be so kind to help me with this thing?”

She neared him, and softly flicked her tongue across her lips, and she saw his eyes unfocus for a moment, and then he nodded.

“I want to know the address of a certain Otis Milburn,” said Ruby, blinking her eyes a few times.

The receptionist rapidly looked down, and started tapping, his fingers dancing over the keyboard frantically. He looked up with a satisfied grin.

“In King’s,” he began. “But I’d reckon he’d be at the library. The bloke’s really getting it on with this hot chick.”

Ruby waved and said thank you, and started for the library. She had done it. She was claiming him back.

* * *

Maeve sat, tired, on what she’d wager was the most uncomfortable chair that she had ever rested her bloody arse on.

She was lost in her thoughts when she was wrenched back to reality by Otis’ high pitched screaming.

“Shut up, dickhead,” she said. “You scream like a girl.”

“Maeve, I did it,” said Otis. “I discovered it!”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the old man, adjacent to her who had already yelled at them once, turning to face them again.

“Mind your own business,” shouted Maeve, in the direction of that man. He gave her a dirty expression and sourly turned around in his seat.

By the time she had finished snapping at the man, Otis had settled back down in his seat and had returned back to normal.

She eyed him dirtily before adjusting herself to find a soft spot for her arse to lie on. She found the spot with much difficulty, but she was happy when she did. Settling back against the back of the chair, she darted her eyebrows.

“So?” she asked Otis, raising her eyebrows again. She was curious to know what he had found out about the text. She had been trailing that text for quite some time now, and it was so much easier with Otis around. She knew that they made a great team, and Otis was paying her a lot of attention, but she recognized that she still had to go a long way if she wanted him to go to the gala with her.

“Hm,” Otis said, staring intently at the textbook. Whatever he saw in there made his eyebrows quiver. “Weird.”

She looked at him silently for a moment, and then coughed loudly. He looked up so suddenly that he knocked the text overboard. He bent down and picked it up and handed it to Maeve.

“I found an address,” said Otis.

“Come on, we have analyzed all of the addresses, and we found nothing. Guess you need some sleep, dickhead,” Maeve replied.

He shook his head, and frantically pointed to the text.

“It is weird because all the addresses we have investigated are British,” said Otis, a good mix of excitement and concern in his voice. “But this particular address - this is California. This is the States.”

Maeve looked up shocked. Had she heard that right? No, there is some mistake, she thought.

Just then, a voice, as hard as steel, rocked her ears. “Otis,” was all Maeve heard, and she turned.

She almost wished she hadn’t. Standing in the doorway, was Ruby fucking Matthews. She was here.

She looked at Otis, and noticed that he had started to sweat, the beads falling off his forehead in small heaps, quaking his already furrowed raised eyebrows.

“Ruby-” Otis began.

“I’m coming clean,” Ruby said from the doorway to the library, grabbing everyone’s attention. After this, she rushed out and Maeve saw Otis get up.

“Maeve, uh, I-” was all he could muster, before he ran outside, closing the library door behind him.

Everyone’s attention turned towards her. Well, what did she do? She did what she had always done.

Shoved those double barrels straight up their arseholes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, and the plot thickens. Expect to see more action in the next chapter, and a major announcement after that. Anyways, thanks for reading, and all the comments and the reviews are highly appreciated. Until next time, then.
> 
> Peace.


	4. There's a thousand ways to love her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great twist that steers the plot away a bit from fluff and jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was additionally very nervous to put this up, but with motivation and very valued advice from my beta reader, I decided to put it up. This is the second last chapter in this work - the plot will continue from where its left off in this work to the next work in this same series, and its most likely to be a crossover, so watch this space, I guess....

* * *

It was again time for the trees to dress up in their carnival clothes, the summer was a mixture of all the seasons mixed up and served on a connoisseur’s palate, different modulations of rainbow colours, with a pinch-sized range of soft clouds and blissful rains. This is a summer boisterous with purple velvets and silks, and pure silkscreen blue. This summer exploded on her tongue, tasting of smooth butter and bumpy hazelnut spread, a power mixture of berries with a sour tinge to the flavour, all shaped into a neat compound. It tingled her skin with a TNT-power wind that delicately struck the tips of all the thick nerve-endings that reside luxuriously on her hands and feet.

A summer which with each whiff would smell like precipice blades and new books. It chimed with sweet bird calls and lush green meadows, all this, while packing a punch of citrus fruits that bounce off her skin. A summer of creamy lotions and conditioners, of the beach water gliding past her toes, of the roughest of textures, like that of a raisin. This summer would never end. It would, eventually. Just not for Ruby.

Turning to her side, she saw Otis, a conflicted expression on his face, chucking stones in the sea. The grass under her feet was crunched mercilessly, as she lied down next to him.

“We had a good run, didn’t we?” he asked, piercing the comfortable silence.

“I was immature, Otis,” Ruby replied, sitting up. “I didn’t know the meaning of ‘love’. I realized I didn’t value you enough.”

Otis looked at her, his body language not losing its calm, but his eyes narrated a completely different story. He didn’t say a word, just sat there, basking in the heat.

“I was angry with you for quite a while after you left Moordale all of a sudden. That really broke me apart,” said Ruby, genuine tears welling up. “After a time, that intense rage made way for introspection, and then I realized that for every one arsehole move, you were perfect at least ten times.”

He plucked a small weed, and chucked it away from them. Although he was silent, Ruby could sense his conflict. She was doing good.

“I left because Eric reminded me of the first year of sixth form. Do you remember, Ruby?” Otis asked, his tone betraying his composure.

Yes. Ruby remembered. She was a bitch. She had to be, she was a part of the Untouchables. Otis wasn’t popular as the  _ Sex Kid _ then, she didn’t even know that they had Geography together. As much as it pained her to admit that, she knew she couldn’t lie to herself and Otis anymore. She had to tell him.

“I want to be completely honest with you, but in doing so, I am risking the chance of us being together,” said Ruby. “Again.”

Otis scoffed. His discomfort was now apparent from the way he was avidly twiddling his thumbs, and avoiding looking at her. So far, so good.

“The first year was a difficult time,” she began. “We all had to find our places within Moordale’s rigid food chain.”

Otis scoffed again.

“You seemed to be coming along just fine,” said Otis, a sarcastic look evident on his face. “Please do not sugar coat it. Just say what you want to say. You owe me that much.”

The dam broke. Ruby nodded, her tears gently taking her closer and closer to the furnace of heartbreak. They could not extinguish what she did, but there is a satisfaction, a reassurance that would help carry her forward, until a time comes when every feeling goes distant.

“First year of sixth form, you were at the lowest level of the food chain. You were practically a nobody,” said Ruby, lowering her head. “But after our little drunk encounter at the night of your party, I realized how nice and caring you really are,” 

Otis’ body language changed completely. He crouched over, his arms rested on his knees, and he rested his forehead on his arm.

“I’m conflicted Ruby,” said Otis. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to feel.”

She watched him break down completely, tears falling silently off his cheeks. She had never seen him in this state. Sure, he had cried a few times, but this was different. She hadn’t seen him this...broken.

She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t have experience in stuff like this.  _ What would Otis do if the roles were reversed?  _ She questioned herself. Otis would have held her. Would have held her for all eternity, if need had been. So she did the same.

She glided across the grass and neared his crouched form, reaching her arms forward tentatively, until he dissolved in them, and she moved even closer to him.

She lifted his face up with her index finger, “You don’t have to say anything or feel anything, all right?” She brought his head back to her collarbone. They sat there, watching the dusty waves take over the flailing sand, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was all because of her. Maybe it was her, or maybe it was Wiley. But Maeve Wiley was the least of her worries right now.

If Otis needed time, she was going to give him every fucking second of it. But deep inside, she hoped that he would not take too long. The gala was in less than a week, and she would run out of time soon.

Otis slowly got out of her embrace, and straightened his shirt, running his hands all over the front of his shirt like an iron. He picked a stone near him, and flicked it behind his back. She heard the grass rustle, but didn’t hear the  _ thud _ of the stone hitting barren ground.  _ Wait, what? We are supposed to be alone… _

By the time realization hit, Otis was already guiding her towards the thick canopy of trees, where they would be shielded from whatever or whoever was trailing them. Adrenaline kicked in, diverting blood away from her gut and towards her muscles. The rapid beating of her heart drowned out the external noise, and she spun, facing Otis, who was busy collecting as many stones as he could while on the run.

She stood there watching him, trying to build a moment and getting him to kiss her. She had realized that this was as good a moment as any, but her plan kind of fell apart because Otis was six feet away from her. He was still screaming her name, but she just waited there, frozen. With every passing second, her heart beat more thunderously, pounding hard enough to crack a rib. Within minutes her senses narrowed and she saw more red than grey.

There was a ticking sound stuck in her head, and she was not sure if it was really there, or if it was just a hallucination her mind had conjured up to distract her from the impending disappointment. She wanted to quell the hammering in her ribcage, but she knew there was nothing that she could do about it. Deep down, she knew that the disappointment hit far more heavily than the rocks being hurled at her.  _ Oh shit, the rocks _ . She glanced down and there was blood on her arms and she was pretty sure that the crimson fluid leaking through the knee holes in her pants was her own blood.

She saw Otis running towards her, his arms flailing around pointing at the ground. She didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her, so she was laboriously surprised when she was pushed back. Otis had become a blur, and the background was fading into nothingness. Her eyelids felt heavy as lead, and her arms were hydraulically pressed together. One moment she was revelling in disappointment, and then she was falling.

She massaged her eye sockets and her vision returned to normal. Otis was on the ground, a deep crimson fluid marked his forehead.  _ He took a stone for me _ . 

He lay there, motionless, and she stared at him for a complete second before she was jolted back to reality by the whizz of a stone missing her by inches. The sound reverberated through her ears, and she clutched her head in an attempt to stop it from spinning.

She bent down instinctively, fishing for a water bottle from her handbag. She found the bottle, opened it, and sprayed a few drops onto Otis, who stirred and opened his eyes, and realized where he was. She helped him to his feet, threw one of his arms over her shoulder, and helped him limp to the canopy, which sat almost fifty feet away.

She ducked, taking Otis down with her just as a stone coursed its way to where her head was a few moments ago. Realizing that the onslaught was not going to end, she picked Otis up partially, throwing one of his arms over her own shoulder and ran as fast as her burning muscles allowed her.

_ 20 feet _ .

She swallowed blood, and shook off the sweat enveloping her hair.

_ 10 feet _ .

A stone caught her calf, and she heard a sharp  _ zip _ . Snaking her free hand down to her calf, she felt the back of her knee. Her pants were ripped.

“No, no. Fuck no!” she shrieked. “My attire is too expensive to be paying the price!”

_ 5 feet _ .

_ Almost there, come on _ . She could feel the warmth of the blood diffusing out of her body from her knees. A stone caught Otis in the back, causing his knees to buckle. She tightened her grip on his shoulder, and paused to raise his groggy face. Trailing her hand to his eyes, causing them to flutter uncontrollably, she rubbed the blood off, so that it was easy for him to see.

_ 2 feet _ .

What was following them, who? Ruby didn’t have the faintest clue, but he or she was fucking fast. She could literally touch some of the leaves, and that’s when she saw someone ploughing a hole in the middle of the forest.

_ Uh, oh, here we go again _ . She didn’t know if she should approach him or go back the way she had come. He possessed dashing blonde hair that flapped in the wind, striking blue eyes, and deep cheekbones, which gave his face a gloominess that was prevalent of an era long gone. Abhorrent scars decorated his face, bequeathing an inescapable sense of shadiness. Every detail of him was calling to her, as if to tell her to run the fuck away. While she still could.

The tough consequences and Otis’ bloody condition got the better of that notion, and she ran towards him.

“Hello?” she cried, frantically waving her arms. “Hello? Mister!”

The man briefly looked up from his work, furrowed his brow, and went back to his work.

_ Fuck. _

She ran towards the man, and he looked up and saw her approach, pausing his work, and staring intently at Otis. His eyes moved from Otis to Otis’ clothes, and then switched to Ruby and her clothes.

He extended an arm towards his hut, inviting them in, dropping his mechanical plough and hurrying off to open the door. He came back to her and helped her carry Otis, one arm on his shoulder, and supporting Ruby using one hand, which she quickly shrugged off. She didn’t need anyone’s help, she wasn’t hurt as badly as Otis.

He rushed inside, dragging Ruby and Otis with him. The man disappeared into a room, which gave Ruby time to study her surroundings.

Time had performed irreversible deeds on the structure of the modest frame of the wooden hut. It was really just a roof upon four walls of wood. Ruby had seen better huts in Ohio than the one she was in right now. The windows seemed to have lost their grace, devoid of a shred of glass, and transparent curtains, that sat at a rather jaunty angle, attempted to conceal their haphazard state.

Around the house were several Gothic sketches of gods that Ruby didn’t know anything about. A sombre carpet donned the fudgy floor, and the tapestry was elegant.  _ Where the fuck am I? _ Ruby thought to herself.

After a few minutes, the man returned, rolling a stretcher, upon which laid a flat mattress that, according to Ruby’s assumptions, was just long enough to accomodate Otis’ lean frame. Hurriedly, the man lifted Otis and laid him down on the stretcher, and applied a green paste on his forehead. He stretched his hand out to Ruby, but she slapped it away.

“What is that?” Ruby said.

“A paste made from eucalyptus leaves. It has wondrous healing properties,” the man replied, sensing her confusion.

“Whatever. Will it heal him?” asked Ruby, pointing in the direction of Otis’ inert form.

The man nodded, and offered her a glass of water.

“Is there someone you would like to call?” the man asked. “You can use my telephone.”

Ruby thought for a moment. She didn’t want to call Maeve, but she knew that Otis would have wanted her to call Maeve.  _ Since when do I care about what other people want? _ she asked herself.

She gingerly accepted the phone, and got up and walked up to Otis and fished through his trouser’s pockets to find his phone. She searched up Maeve’s contact, and considered dialling her from his phone. She pressed the call button, but she heard an automated response informing her of poor network, instead of hearing Wiley.

She memorized the number and dialled it through the man’s phone. She heard the ringtone play twice and then she picked up.

* * *

  
  


“So,” began Eric. “I completed a full portrait of Shakespeare the other day.”

Eve stopped in her tracks, and Eric, not noticing that, went ahead of her. By the time he realized, he was already six feet ahead. He backed up next to her.

“Eric!” she exclaimed, almost whooping in joy. “I know how much that means to you.”

She turned to her side and caught him in a big embrace.

“Let’s sit for a while,” said Eve, gesturing to one of the benches in the garden. “It is really nice walking at midnight, but it’s doing things to my jumper that I will not talk about.”

Eric cheerily nodded, and took her hand, directing her to the furthest bench from the road.

“I just need to show it to Adam,” he said, smiling, lost in his own world.

Eve squeezed Eric’s hand. “I’m sure he will love it.”

They both sat in silence, afterwards, just enjoying each other’s company. Enjoying what the silence meant for each other.

“Uh, Eric,” began Eve. “I was just wondering…”

Eric nodded, encouraging her to keep talking.

She kept silent for a minute.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” said Eric, reassuring her.

“Do you know this Maeve character personally?” asked Eve.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because she came back and Otis seems to be spending all the time with her. It’s like we don’t exist anymore that she’s back…”

Eric got up so suddenly that Eve almost fell off the bench in surprise.

“What happened?” she asked, rubbing her sore back.

“Why did I not know this?” cried Eric, so loudly that she was sure he had woken up several crickets sleeping in the bushes. This assumption was verified when a chippering noise cut across the silence.

“I found out just last week,” said Eve. “I was looking for him and asked the dean, who then directed me to Maeve’s studio apartment.”

Eric sat down, staring into nothingness. She could tell that he was hurt just by the way his left eyebrow twitched, and his hands folded across his chest.

“But why would Ot-” A brick caught Eric square in the shoulder.

He gave a huge cry and fell down off the bench face down.

Eve sprung into action, turning behind in an attempt to catch a glance at whoever had thrown the brick at him. Nothing.

Fear is as ubiquitous as bushes in the garden. She was choking inside. She hurriedly pushed that fear away. Doing that, she realized how red her face and arms were getting. She was fuming, she wanted to find whoever had done that and she wanted nothing more than to hurt him. As soon as the anger had built up, it extinguished, leaving Eve with a gentle sense of calm. She had gone through this plenty of times, and had somehow lost most of her anger and fear in the process. She felt her heartbeat slow down, and the twitching decreased.

She took Eric’s head into her lap, and massaged his shoulder, right where he had been hit. He was not moving. She knew that she was alone in this, and she knew that she would have to face that fact and steel herself if she wanted Eric alive.

Her attention was focused on Eric, but she couldn’t stop a small section of her brain wandering to her past. She had been in too many of these situations, she was used to this, but somehow, after everything, it still hurt like a bitch.

Everytime she lost someone, she would feel something that felt a lot like an anvil travel through her body. It started from her toes and would always make her body go feverishly cold. She still remembered how it started multiplying just above her stomach, the multiplied particles moving to every organ.

Each particle held immense grief. Grief she hadn’t known how to express. Grief she hadn’t known she was harboring. Grief she couldn’t share with anybody because her dad was a violent drunk, who was only home once every three months. Grief she couldn’t entertain because her mother was too busy taking care of the household.

She could feel the anvil building up again. She could almost foresee her heart breaking into a million pieces. She had been grieving since childhood. Grieving because of what she could’ve been. Grieving for what she could have achieved, had her family not intervened and gotten tangled with her passions. Grief she couldn’t dwell on right now, because her best friend was sprawled on the grass, motionless.

She shook him, and got a weak groan in response. She quickly fished out the water bottle she always kept in her bag, and sprayed a few drops onto Eric. The reaction was almost immediate. Eric sat up, panting. “Never do that again.”

Eve was so happy, she almost whooped in joy again. She helped him stand up and gave him the warmest hug she had ever given to anyone.

Eric laughed and hugged her back with equal passion.

Lost in the hug, she was wrenched back to reality by the collective buzzing of both Eric’s and Eve’s mobiles in unison.

They both frowned and got their phones out.

“It’s from Otis,” said Eve, lost in the content of the message.

“Are you reading what I am reading?” asked Eric, a bewildered expression on his face.

Eve stretched her hand out, and showed him her screen.

“Let’s go,” Eric said, before grabbing Eve’s hand and pulling her with him.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that worked. Thank you.
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> Cheers.


	5. My Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Mr. LL Cool J's words:  
> "Don't call it a comeback, I've been here for years"
> 
> Just when you thought this fic was dead......

* * *

Torn tops, tattered trousers, a grave mindset and an inflated sense of ego were what constituted for Maeve’s austere condition those past few days. It was not that she was traumatised, heck, she wasn’t even sad. She was just stressed. And angry. She had just won Otis’ trust back, and then Ruby comes out of nowhere and shoots her shot. _That fucking vulture_.

She approached a canopy of trees, and located the hut in her sight. She got her phone out to double check the address Ruby had sent her, as it was not below Ruby to send her a fake address just to throw her off Otis’ tail. But Maeve had come too far to back down now. She made her way towards the hut, clutching her handbag more ferociously as she neared the hut.

She reached the door, and knocked. After a minute, the door creaked open partially, and she saw a middle aged man gripping the door knob. Before inviting her in, he briefly turned his head, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ruby nod. The man opened the door fully, extending his hand to invite her in.

Gingerly, she stepped inside and what struck her the most was the stark Victorian paintings that were hung around the dim lit roof. The painting that caught her eye depicted the Sun, only in grey. Tendrils grew out of each dent in the surface. Painted across the sun were the words ‘Ahahahah’ in a spiral that led up to the moon. She was fascinated by the abstract value that the piece held.

Darting her gaze across the room, she saw Otis. Blood dripped from his nose and forehead, and he was snuggled under a blanket. He held a cup in his pale hand, his fingers barely tightened enough around the cup to hold it in place.

She dropped her bag, and ran in his direction.

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Maeve.

“Ruby, rocks, forest, darkness,” Otis replied weakly, a small smile plastered his face.

“Great sense of humour,” began Maeve. “But what really happened?”

A sudden noise reached Maeve’s ears, and she turned to the direction of the noise. The sound was coming from outside the door, a kind of a hard knocking. The man readied his shotgun, and aimed at the door.

“Who’s there?” asked the man.

The door creaked open and in spilled Eric and the girl she had met at her studio apartment, the one who had come to pick Otis up. Her name escaped Maeve’s mind. Was it Eva?

“Eve,” said Otis, getting up. “Eric.”

“Jesus is the lord!!!!!!,” shouted Eric, running towards him. “What the fuck happened?”

Otis shrugged, and Eric’s eyes fell on Maeve. He ran to her and hugged her. “Maeve, you’re here!” She hugged him back, letting a smile play at her lips. Maeve looked at Eve and nodded, and Eve nodded back.

“Ruby,” Eric said, noticing her for the first time. “You are here too.”

She noticed a slight distaste in Eric’s voice, which was masked perfectly with his rising anger.

Maeve saw Ruby smile at Eric. She couldn’t believe it. _Ruby smiled at Eric?_ She thought to herself. _What happened to her?_

“Tell me what happened,” asked Eric, moving near Otis.

The man coughed and everyone’s heads turned to him. “Why don’t you take this procession outside, huh? Leave me some peace, eh?”

“But you let us in, and agreed to help us,” protested Ruby.

“Yes, I let you in,” the man said, pointing at Ruby and Otis. “I didn’t know you would bring a whole fucking party to my house.”

Eve moved forward. “Please let us borrow your home for a few more minutes. Our friends are in pain. And we need to figure out what to do next.”

Her sweet talk melted the man’s heart, and he agreed.

“So? What happened?” Eric asked again.

“Ruby and I were just sitting near the river, sorting things out, and that’s when someone started hitting us with stones.”

“No one randomly gets hit by stones while sitting on the riverside,” said Eric. “There has to be a reason.”

“Not anything that I can think of…” Otis’ voice trailed.

The anger was fully evident on Eric’s face, and he did little to mask it.

“Why do you look angry?” asked Otis.

Eric scoffed and threw a bewildered expression at Otis.

“Oh, why do I look angry?” said Eric. “The first time I see my best friend in weeks, he is covered in blood from head to toe. And Maeve’s returned. And Ruby.”

Eric stopped, surveying Otis’ face. “How long have we known each other?”

Otis sighed. “Look, I am sorry, I got too busy with the University, helping Maeve with the mystery text-” He was interrupted by the man, who now held his hand high above his head, in an attempt to stop Otis from talking.

“This mystery text?” the man asked. “Do you happen to have a copy of it?”

Maeve nodded and brought out the dusty and tattered copy, and handed it to the man.

She would be lying if she said that she wasn’t intrigued by the man’s behaviour. Just a moment ago, he was willing to shove their arses out his door, but now he was suddenly interested.

She turned to Otis and found out that he was already looking at her, wearing the same expression as Maeve. She raised her eyebrows in question, and he gestured something with his hand.

“Ring any bells?” asked Otis.

The man ran across the room, heading towards a rusty cupboard. He opened the door to the cupboard, opened a couple of drawers and brought out a magnifying glass.

He frantically walked around the room, and produced a candle from what appeared to be the kitchen, and brought it over to the dining table.

Everyone, including Maeve, crowded around him, and observed as he tore the starting page of each chapter and placed them over the fire one by one.

“Hey,” Otis protested. “We spent many weeks analyzing this. The copy is already tattered, why are you-”

The man raised his hand, silencing Otis, and got back work. Maeve saw as the cloudiness and the milky texture of the page disintegrated to reveal softly inscribed letters on the corners of each page.

“Whoa,” Eve whispered.

Then the man picked up his magnifying glass and investigated the inscriptions on each page thoroughly.

The man dropped the magnifying glass, which landed with a soft _thud_ on the wooden table, and stared at Otis and Maeve.

“You two say you have been analyzing this for weeks now?” asked the man, his gaze pertinent.

Maeve and Otis nodded in sync.

“Tell me what you found out,” said the man.

“Initially, we found out that the text pattern was very similar to Sylvia Plath’s,” Maeve began. “So we used that as a framework for our analysis.”

“And due to that, we found an address based in the States,” completed Otis.

Maeve smiled at Otis, and Otis smiled back. They had gotten so used to working together, that they made a near perfect team. Among other things, Maeve was grateful that they hadn’t lost that over the years.

“Bullshit,” she heard the man say.

“Excuse me?” said Otis.

“Whatever you analyzed and found out was bullshit,” the man replied. “It was absolute crap.”

“Could have framed it a bit better,” Eric whispered.

“And who are you to say that?” asked Otis, a hint of ego evident in his voice. “You have looked at the text for less than ten minutes and you already established that our analysis is inaccurate. You got something better to share?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” the man said, not registering the criticism thrown at him. “The corners of the pages have inscriptions visible under candlelight, and each of these inscriptions are in Latin.”

Maeve was shocked to her core. The hours and hours of research and hardwork she had invested into the text had all been in vain. The thing wasn’t even remotely related to Plath. This was just one of her many failures. She hadn’t managed to procure herself a house with big windows, she hadn’t been able to ask Otis out. She had been a disappointment her whole life, and she would never be able to fulfill her childhood dreams. Life was going just well for Maeve Wiley. The stupidity of it all made her laugh, which invited startled glares from Otis and Ruby.

“What do the inscriptions say?” asked Ruby, who had uncharacteristically stayed silent since a little after Maeve had arrived.

“They are Latin, so I have to get my dictionary out, and really survey each word carefully,” the man replied.

“And how did you figure this out in just two minutes of examination?” asked Eve.

“Look around, Eve,” began Ruby, an annoyed look evident on her face. “Look at the paintings, library, the posters of Classic novels. He is a classics professor, of course.”

The man whistled and clapped. “You are quite the detective, lady.”

Ruby went red, and Maeve saw Otis throw Ruby a wide grin.

_Yeah, great detective, piecing together exactly what was thrown at her._

“I would need at least two hours to investigate this, and organize my findings,” the man said. “Till then, the T.V works perfectly, and I’m pretty sure I have enough ice cream tubs in the freezer.”

“Movie night,” Maeve said, an expression of mock excitement grazing her face, which was primarily directed at Otis. “You missed yours last night. Remember?”

Otis gave her a quizzical look, and she raised her eyebrows in reply.

“Oh!” Otis said, as realization dawned. “I’m sorry.”

Maeve darted her eyebrows. “Not the first time I have been disappointed.” She scampered away, leaving Otis in retrospection.

“We have all genres,” the man said, noticing the confusion between the group. “Help yourselves.”

And with that, the man arranged all his resources, including the copy of the text, his magnifying glass and a candle, in a heap, and carried them all over to what Maeve guessed was a different room.

By the time she focused back onto the present, Eric had already switched the television on, and was browsing through the movie choices.

“You are actually going to watch?” Eve asked incredulously.

“Well, we all have suffered today, and it would do a whole lot of good by distracting us,” said Eric. “We just need to forget our troubles for some time, and really rejuvenate to be ready for the future challenges.”

He had a point. Though Maeve realized this quickly, it took the group some time to process. They remained quiet for a moment, and then Otis raised his hand and shrieked, “Birds of Prey!”

That seemed to anger Eric immensely, so much so that he put down the remote, and glared at Otis. 

“NO MORE FUCKING MARGOT ROBBIE!” said Eric, hysterically.

“No,” Otis replied. “Fuck you!”

He raced towards the remote and realized a little late that the remote was a lot closer to Eric, who just picked it up and was waving it in the air. Even Ruby couldn’t help but smile.

Otis ran forward and jumped onto the couch, pulling Eric’s sleeve, hassling him for possession of the remote. They both fought back and forth for the remote for quite a while, before Eric managed to retain possession.

Gingerly, Otis sat back down onto the couch next to him, while Eve and Maeve each occupied the recliners, leaving Ruby alone on a couch. She stretched her legs, and adjusted the cushion on the couch to support her head.

* * *

Maeve heard loud footsteps, and the man entered the hall, with only the copy of the manuscript in his arms.

Maeve sat up, and saw him approach, darting her eyes towards Otis, who, like herself, was eagerly watching him approach.

He had ditched his leather jacket, and was sporting a half sleeved retro sweatshirt. The buffness of his triceps flashed, and what struck Maeve the most was the hideous looking tattoo of a serpent on his left forearm.

He reached the dining table, his head bent down, not making eye contact.

“So?” said Maeve. “What did you find?”

The man stayed silent for a few minutes, just standing at the dining table, hands balled into fists, still staring down. This seemed to annoy Otis immensely, who raised his shoulders and tapped the man on the shoulder. The man finally looked up, and glared at them.

“You shouldn’t have gotten a hold of this,” the man said hurriedly.

Maeve felt her features distort and she put on a mask of curiosity. 

“Why?” asked Ruby, from the couch.

“It is dangerous,” the man said, shaking his head constantly. “And the bottom line is that you never should have gotten a hold of this.”

Maeve saw Ruby step forward and come face-to-face with the man. He didn’t meet Ruby’s eyes.

“I almost lost my friends here, and you say that it is dangerous?” said Ruby, anger dripping from the end of every syllable. “We were hit by bricks, chump. Bricks. We are already in too deep. So whatever is up with you, suck it up and tell us what’s going on.”

Maeve was honestly taken aback by Ruby’s ferocious manner, and the sincerity of her words. Plus, Ruby had called Eve and Eric her ‘friends’. _What the fuck is up with her?_

“Fine,” the man began. “But you are inviting your own deaths.”

Maeve shrugged and the man sat down at the dining table, gripping the edge of the square table tightly.

“You were right,” said the man, looking at Otis. “Whatever it is, it's back home in the States.”

“What do you mean ‘whatever it is’?” asked Ruby, with a microscopic amount of sarcasm present in her voice.

“After translating the writings from Latin to English,” said the man, hesitating slightly. “One name was repeated over and over again.”

Maeve raised her eyebrows.

“What name?” asked Otis.

“Blossom,” the man replied.

* * *

  
  


“Isn’t that the kid who was murdered by his own father?” said Ruby.

The man nodded in response.

“How does any of that relate to this text?” said Ruby.

“That is a very good question,” said the man. “And the answer to which is simply that I have no clue.”

“Well, seems like we ought to pay Riverdale a visit,” said Ruby, plopping down on the couch right next to Maeve.

“Hold on now,” the man interjected. “I know Riverdale. Heck, that is my fucking hometown, and you have no idea what happens to the people there. There is adversity after adversity there, murder after murder, and the ones asking the right questions are wiped off the face of the Earth overnight. If that town’s anything, evil is the word for it.”

Otis put up his hand and said, “I don’t really think we have a choice. We are already in too deep.”

“But you are not,” the man retorted. “You could toss the book in a river and forget all about it.”

“Why do you keep neglecting the fact that we were assaulted,” Eric interjected from the sofa. “A-S-S-A-U-L-T-E-D”

“By bricks,” added Otis, earning a glare from Eric.

“Plus, we would have you guiding us,” added Eve. “We can’t go wrong.”

The man shook his head. “I wouldn’t step foot in that town.”

Ruby stepped forward. “You have been helping us fine so far.”

The man stepped forward, his arms swinging at his sides. He faced Ruby and pointed at the snake tattoo on his left forearm.

“This is my identity. I’m equivalent to scum in Riverdale,” the man said. “I am not going back, period. You all want to step into the mouth of the polar bear, fine, but you are not dragging me along with you.”

Ruby glared at the man but gave up, retreating towards the couch.

“I cannot go, but I will tell you this,” the man said. “Stay in close contact with the kids from Riverdale High. They always got their noses into something big, and are less trouble than getting involved with the mayor or the police.”

“Pack your bags, lovelies,” Ruby said, smirking. “We are on for a ride.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that concludes part 1 of the tale. The Second one would take some time to write, but we are here for the journey. Thanks for sticking by, and for reviews and kudos, all of you are much appreciated. Take care and Stay safe.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt to write a hurt/comfort and angst story. Hope you liked it.  
> Every review, however long or short, is much appreciated.
> 
> If you want longer or shorter chapters please tell me.....
> 
> See you when the next chapter drops.
> 
> Peace.


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